I stand at the side of Jenna’s bed, squeezing her hand, as we watch Nick cut the umbilical cord of his new baby girl. I always knew women were strong and courageous, but to see one giving birth is awe-inspiring. I’ve cried all night long, watching Jenna push and struggle to bring her and Nick’s creation into the world on my birthday. I’m so blessed.

She’s perfect, wrapped up in a white blanket and pink baby cap. Ten fingers and toes with big eyes like Jenna, and Nick’s lips. Nick is at Jenna’s other side as they snuggle together with the baby, feeding her for the first time. I get my camera and continue doing what comes naturally to me. I’ve been able to capture this whole beautiful experience—this will make a great gift.

“So, do we have a name picked out?” Jenna’s mom asks.

“Yeah. Go ahead Nick. You tell them,” Jenna says.

“Paege Elyse is what we have decided. Paege will have an Irish spelling to it, and Elyse is my mom’s name.” His voice falters, heavy with emotion.

Reaching over, I give him a big hug. “It’s a beautiful name,” I whisper in his ear.

We laugh and hug a few more times, before I decide to leave, giving them some private family time to bond. “I’ll stop by tomorrow night after the Golden Bears game,” I promise.

It’s after 3 am, and I’m exhausted. I pull into my parking space, and see that Kyle is sleeping in his car. Should I wake him? I hate that he’s out here keeping watch and he looks so uncomfortable. I tap on his driver side window, and he jumps awake. He pushes his door open and steps out. “Grab your keys and lock it. You’re coming in,” I tell him.

To my surprise, he doesn’t argue and actually follows me inside. I offer him some food and drink, but he declines as he takes a seat at the island. I see the dark circles under his eyes, but make no mention of them. I head into the bedroom to change into my pajamas. A few minutes later, I go to get him and he’s sleeping cross-armed on the counter. “C’mon. Lay down and rest,” I tell him, pulling him up and into the bedroom.

We lie down together in silence. I’m absolutely exhausted, too, and within a few moments, we are curled together and asleep.

The bright morning sun streaks across my pillow, and I squeeze my eyes closed against it. My brain wakes up enough to remember the last few hours, and that Kyle was in my bed. I roll over quickly thinking he might have left in regret, but his back is turned to me. At least he’s still here. My mind fills with a thousand things I want to say to him, but I’m not sure where to begin.

He stretches his long legs out, rolls over onto his stomach, crosses his arms over his head and buries his face in the pillow. Eventually, he faces me. Of all the questions I thought he may ask, the one he chooses surprises me. “What were you doing out so late, last night?” he asks.

“Why have you been keeping watch over me for the last few months?” I answer his question with one of my own.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he groans, burying his face back down in the pillow.

“It’s alright. I’ve been piecing it together. I know what happened, but next time, talk to me. I can handle problems. We could have planned a solution together. What I can’t handle is rejection without words and reasoning. That hurts the most, and does more damage than necessary.”

He raises up and sits with his back against the pillows. “Aran, that’s the problem. I don’t know how to plan a solution with you, when I don’t even know what the fuck is going to happen in my life. Every day is something new that I don’t plan for. It’s exhausting, so I gave up. I fucking walked away. If we were meant to be together, this should be easy,” he growls.

“Who the fuck told you that?” I ask. “If it were easy, everybody would have a great life, with great relationships, and success, and fame, and money. Life is fucking hard, but you have to work at it every day. You can’t walk away, and just let it happen. Life is lived in the details.”

“Well, the details of my life right now are in chaos,” he groans.

“No one said you had to have it all figured out now,” I shoot back at him.

“Damn it, Aran,” he hisses, blowing out his breath through pursed lips. “You have this amazing life built already. You’re out in the world. You’ve got your business started. You know the direction you’re headed. You already know where your talent lies. I don’t even know which way is north.”

“Jesus, Kyle. When did you start comparing your life to mine?” I ask. “It’s not perfect. I choose to take life as it hits me. Sometimes that’s with baby steps, and sometimes it’s with large leaps. I have one goal in life, and that’s to live it being fulfilled with the details that I create. That’s why I own my own company. I create my life. I create my time schedule. I create the details that I want to live with.”

“I need something to go my way in this life. Right now, everything in my personal life is working against me,” he mumbles in defeat.

“Things might be working out like they’re supposed to for the time being. You might not need to change things in your life right now, because it’s meant to be as is. Maybe you’re working overtime pushing against it. You need to change your mindset—put a positive spin on it, and accept it. Maybe things will come together once you give in,” I say.

“So, you agree then? Giving up was the right thing to do?” he asks.

“That’s not what I said at all. Giving in is not giving up. Giving in is accepting there’s an unscripted path to follow. A life plan that sometimes we’re not in complete control of. There’s a popular saying: things happen for a reason. That’s what you give in to. Accept it. Follow it until you’re shown a different path. Then you make another decision to go left or go right. That’s how we get through life. The control you have is in the details of choosing the left or right path,” I explain.

“Are you sure you’re a photographer?” he teases. “You’d make a pretty good life coach.”

“You egit,” I laugh, smacking him with my pillow.

“What’s an egit?” he asks.

“It’s Irish for idiot,” I smack him again with the pillow, laughing harder.

“So, I’m an idiot now?” he asks, turning his lips down into a pout.

“No. But you can’t be funny in the middle of a serious conversation either,” I sass back at him. “Kyle, just get your shit together. And don’t do it for me. Don’t do it for your mom. Do it for yourself. Do it because it’s your life, and you’re the one who has to live it. You need to focus on what you want. Plan for that. If we’re meant to be together, it will happen. I truly believe that. It’s how I live my life,” I explain.

He gets up, and comes around to my side of the bed, turning his back to me. “Do you want one final ride into the kitchen,” he asks.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” I exclaim as I climb aboard his back, wrapping my legs around his waist, and my arms around his shoulders.

“Wow. You’re a lot lighter without that cast,” he laughs.

He walks to the couch and dumps me onto the lounge section, before heading into the kitchen to make coffee.

“Hey, guess what?” I ask him. “Never mind, you’ll never guess. Nick and Jenna’s baby was born early this morning. That’s where I was,” I say.

“Congratulations to them. Boy or girl?” he asks.

“Little girl. Paege Elyse,” I announce.

He comes into the living room with one hand behind his back, and lowers himself down onto his knees facing me. Carefully, he pulls his hand forward, and he’s got a chocolate chip breakfast muffin in it, with one candle burning. “Happy birthday, Blaze,” he says, handing it to me.

“Aww. How did you know it was my birthday?” I ask, closing my eyes to make a wish.

“I have my sources,” he confesses.

After making my wish, I rub his beard with my free hand, caressing my thumb over his cheek. I lean forward and blow out the candle, before the wax drips.

The coffee machine beeps, and he gets up to fetch us two cups.

“I’m gonna get out of here after coffee. I have a game to prepare for. I just wanted to put that out there so you don’t think I’m running away,” he says, sitting down across from me.

“I didn’t think you ran away from me. I know you were forced away. There’s a difference,” I roll my eyes, trying to play it cool and pretend that I didn’t just find out the full story.

“Look, Aran. I want you to know that I heard every word you said this morning. I need to think about exactly what I want, and sort out everything going on in my life. I won’t promise that I’ll be back. Please don’t wait for me. I want you to be happy,” he says.

“Well, that’s kind of cocky of you to say that to me,” I sass.

“Hey, you’re the one that calls me Mr. Cocky Badass,” he says, smirking and throwing my own words back at me. “I need to start my life. Experience a taste of what you’ve had since finishing college. Maybe that’s the perspective that I need.”

“In all honesty, Kyle, I want to see you happy. I hope living your life on your terms will do that for you. Don’t settle for anything less than what you really want. Focus on that. That’s what will make me happy,” I say, reaching up to wrap my arms around him.

He sets his empty mug down on the counter and hugs me back, completely swallowing me up in his embrace. He’s squeezing me hard and holding on for dear life. I blink hard to fight back the tears that are welling up in my eyes.

This is good-bye. My stomach turns over with a sick feeling when he lets go of me. He grabs his keys and walks out the door, letting it close as softly as the tears fall down my cheeks. We’ve expressed what we needed to, and now I’m on my own again. Why does everything great that I have always end? Every time I say I’m done, I always try again. I get it now—lesson learned. He was the last time I try again.

I walk into the kitchen carrying our mugs. I go to refill mine, and there, next to the carafe, is the key to my front door. My knees buckle and I slide to the floor, and lose it.